Fear
by Mary Jane
Summary: Parallel wars, parallel lives...a boy grows into a man, refusing to forget his past, and becomes obsessed with spreading pain, and fear


FEAR -- Chapter One by Mary Jane  
  
His body shook with fear and cold as he lay on the floor. Outside, the storm raged, spewing energy and waste everywhere among flashes of the lightning. He had never seen a storm before, but he knew just as every other sprite dide what the chaos of a storm was caused by. Instability, chaos, hatred; when these things existed in the heart of a system, destruction was not far away. He also knew what the specific cause of the storm was in this case, except he tried to deny that reality. He was forcing himself to think about other things, more joyful things. The only problem was, all of those wonderful thoughts always brought tears to his eyes, for they seemed to laugh at him. The reminded him that he would never see peace again.  
  
His eyes were screwed shut, both to fight off the tears that were ever present in his mind, and also to force him to imagine a happier time. He didn't care about the hopelessness that arose from the knowledge that those memories would never be reality again, for he felt like if he did not at least try to think of something happier he would die of a broken heart. All he could seem to remember was one cycle. One, out of thousands of cycles that he had seen. It had been a contrast to this cycle; the sky was a sea of brilliant colors, the city went on in its tranquil confusion, his family had been gathered together. There had been no particular reason to gather; they just had.  
  
Old Granny Apple had been there, squinting and pulling things ridiculously close to her face in order to attempt to see them. There was Preen, in all of his pompous glory, bragging about his travels with the Webrines. And Point, and Word, and Excel, all wreaking havoc on the ears of anyone who even says the words "chorus" or "sing". Dubbayoudubbayoudubbayou (affectionately called "Dottycom"), Bruce, Murph, Butch, Grant; everyone was there. But he could remember that he hadn't really socialized with anyone else; he had stuck close to his older sister, who also isolated herself from the rest of the family.  
  
She smiled at him constantly as she played on her instruments. She was such a brilliant musician; she mastered everything from the piano to the violin to the trombone. But her favorite instrument, and indeed, his favorite instrument as well, was the flute. He loved the wispy sounds of wind blowing through it, he loved to watch her fingers dance along the keys, he wondered how she could remember all of those intricate combinations that made everything sound so perfect and angelic. But most of all, he loved the way her eyes drifted down and finally closed as the music that sheproduced lulled her into a trance, a trance that was not sleep, but was something so much more peaceful.   
  
But now, he could not remember that trance. He had been pulled into it through the notes so many times, and he had fallen asleep to the sound of that flute countless nights. Whenever he had felt scared, or alone, or even simply just sad, she would play music for him. He thought that if he could remember that music, if he could remember those tones and those notes and those rhythms, then somehow he would be alright.   
  
However, there was something about this night. Something about the storm, and the hatred that enveloped everything, and the chaos that surrounded him and was impossible to escape. He could not remember the music, the one thing that had always given him solace and joy. And he shivered even harder as he tried to think of one simple note, one simple tune from his sister, one simple, peaceful moment, but then cried harder when he realized he could not.   
  
*************  
  
He continued to cry long into the night, completely unaware of anything else going on around him. He failed to realize that the storm had ended, and that although the world outside was still lit with orange lights that marked danger, the worst was over.   
  
All of the instability in the system had been caused by the war. Yes, a war had raged in that system, a civil war, involving almost if not every single sprite within the city limits. It had been such a bloody, costly war, with conditions that no one had ever seen before. And it had raged on for quite some time; so much time that people did not even know what cycle it was, what time it was. But the war had ended, by means of a one-sided victory. And the victors were wandering around the system, their weapons still in hand, looking for any more survivors of the opposing force.   
  
Their faces were covered in dirt, and tears, and the blood of other sprites. The actual features of their own faces were almost completely covered, but it was still possible to see their eyes. However, this would not have been something that anyone would have liked to see, and the sprites themselves, who had previously fought and died together, didn't even look at each other, the looks were so horrible. There were wild looks, looks of hatred never before seen, looks of agony, looks of everything imaginable. Some sprites were tired, others were still consumed by their bloodthirst, and others were merely nervous.   
  
They wandered around the system, eventually making their way to the battered, half-collapsed door of the little boy's house. He was still inside, still crying, still trying to think of the sounds of music.   
  
One particular fighter who did not even have a name (many simply called him Verde, on account of the color of his skin) decided to check the interior of the house. He was one of the fighters still thirsting for blood; he completely ignored his own injuries. He leaned his head up against the door, listened, and heard the sounds of breathing coming from the interior. With a little smile on his face, he clenched his gun in hand, lifted his leg, and kicked the remainder of the door down to the ground.  
  
But what he saw was not what he was expecting. Surely enough, there was the little boy, lying on the ground, looking up at him with a startled look on his face. Verde could not tell whose side he was on, for the boy showed no markings of any side. He also looked absolutely terrified, which didn't normally bother Verde, but this time it stopped him in his tracks. He had killed so many beings before, and he actually took an evil sense of pride in the fact that he had killed little ones. He never had any sympathy in their pain, nor did he believe in their innocence. He believed that all beings were the same; some were just smaller than others.  
  
This little boy, however...perhaps it will never be known just exactly what caused Verde to feel something towards that little boy. All that can be said is that Verde, his huge arm clenching his weapon, looked down at this lonely little boy on the ground in front of him, and felt a sense of responsibility for him. He looked into the little boy's eyes and saw something; some sort of potential, some sort of purpose.   
  
And it was for these reasons that he slowly reached his arm out and offered the little boy a hand. The boy himself hesitated at first, but then stood up and walked to the side of the man in front of him.  
  
*************  
MANY, MANY SECONDS (IN PEOPLE TIME, YEARS) LATER...  
  
The music that one little boy had failed to hear once now echoed throughout the entire city of Mainframe. It was dark outside, but everyone seemed to be crammed into the streets, celebrating. It was a joyful time in the city; news had come in from web surfers that a war in numerous nearby systems had finally been quelled. The citizens had been worried for quite some time that the war, which they knew almost nothing about, would spread into their city limits, be it through a game or even through rogue warriors.   
  
As was said before, they knew nothing about the war. They didn't know how it had started, or why it had started, or who was implicated in the fighting, or what the damage extent was. They did not know what the effect of the war would be on the entire computer, nor did they know if the users had anything to do with it.   
  
These uncertainties were what made Dot stay away from the rest of the group. Everyone else laughed and played, shot off energy fire works, ate all kinds of foods, told all sorts of stories. She, however, went into the diner, where no one else was in sight, and sat down in one of the booths, a steaming cup of cyder in front of her.   
  
Dot knew that she must look so much older than she really was. There had been so much happening, from the Hexadecimal instance to her disaster wedding to the viral wars that had occurred some time ago. Everything around her just seemed to be destructive and hateful, and she always managed to get herself involved in everything. Phong was so much older than she was, but she felt like she was almost his equal peer, she had been through that much. And Matrix, AndrAIa, and little Enzo...every one of them looked so much younger. Matrix wasn't even that much older than she was, but she still thought of him as a child. She laughed a little bit when it occurred to her that he lacked so much in the rationality department that he was almost a child, a child stuck in a fully grown body.   
  
This new war, this new source of stress; she didn't like not knowing what it was about or who was involved or even why it had been destroyed. She knew that she should be celebrating, for if it did not effect her world, then she should be happy that it was over, and that it was no longer a threat to her happiness. But something about that war scared her, and she could not understand why, but she felt a kind of sorrow for the beings involved, the beings she knew nothing about.  
  
She had sat there for a long time before anyone else came into the room. But, finally, the door creaked open slowly, and the shadowy figure of Bob drifted into the room. Actually, she did not hear him when he first came in, so she jumped with surprise when he sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.  
  
"Sorry," he giggled. "I didn't mean to frighten you."  
  
She laughed right back. "It's alright, not nearly the first time that you've done that!"  
  
"True. All too true."  
  
They sat next to one another in silence for a time, and then Dot turned her head towards him. He was looking right at her, a concerned look in his eyes.  
  
"What?" she said.  
  
"Nothing." he replied. "Just, is something wrong?"  
  
Dot was quick to say no. The last thing she needed at that moment was Bob on her case about what she was thinking.  
  
"You haven't been out with everyone, you know, celebrating." he said quietly.  
  
She stopped herself from saying that she didn't think there was anything to celebrate. No one in their city had been involved in the war, and there was nothing joyful about a war going on somewhere else. She wanted to ask, what was everyone really celebrating? They had not seen the devastation, they had not seen the effects of the war on other beings, they had not known the cause for the war, and they had not known the outcome even. What if the side that was the most malicious won? It would not have been the first time that a horrible race had inherited a portion of the computer, and she knew from personal experience that they could wreak havoc on nearby areas. Just because the war was over did not mean that the suffering was over. And the threat was not over either.  
  
But, these things, she did not say. Instead, she just forced herself to look away from Bob and smile weakly. She knew how horrible of an actress she was, but then again, Bob wasn't the quickest guardian who had ever lived.   
  
So, the two just sat there. Bob assumed that Dot was just stressed and so he did not ask any more questions. Dot remained lost in thought, continuing to wonder what the war would mean.   
  
*************  
  
Okay everyone, I promise that this story will get better, but I had to do this introduction just to get the characters and the situation out there. I'm sorry if it was boring! But stay tuned, I've got lots of ideas for the future of this story.  
  
--MJ Out 


End file.
